Void

Some nights while he is sleeping,
I stroke the splintered edge
of the inhuman void inside him.
I press against its muted black
and try to hum its hollow ring.
But when his eyelids open
and let the dirty bedroom light
infect the thoughts twisting behind,
I dissipate. Like smoke, I hide
in the dark hallway of his past
where everybody's door is locked
and every picture's perfect face
turns from him and fades away.
And that is all he knows
of any other face:
those restless eyes
seeking escape.

Oh, if he could catch them,
he could make those clear eyes believe
in the precise steps of his movements,
the crystal smoothness of his voice.
He collects each nod and smile,
the priceless reward of his art,
but underneath their warm approval
through the hallway to the dark,
there is the unthawed void inside
where self-love’s brittle match
still strikes with fervent effort
but never succeeds to ignite.
The void asphyxiates the sparks,
unstitches each moment’s meaning,
bleeds dry the beauty of his dreams
till only ashen dust remains.
Dust is all he’ll ever be.
So he says words he doesn't mean
and controls people for the fame
and calculates behind
his honeyed mask
of lacquered shame.

His power is the quickest drug
to pass the nights without feeling
or fighting dreams of broken frames
and faces turned away
and doors beat by his fist
that no one opens.
The power lets him sleep alone
without the glow of tear-shined eyes
or fingers groping at the void
to touch the worth he cannot find.

In response to an athiest who believes life has no purpose

Our natural inclination as human beings is to feel loved, wanted, special... meaningful. You resist that desire to instead feel unpurposed, separate. Is it because you're afriad? Are you scared because you know that if you feel that way, if you hope there is a purpose, that you will decide again later that there is no purpose, and then have to feel again the pain of not being special?

I think I should define what I mean by a purpose with regards to the universe... designed, planned, created with some intention unknown to us by some force, energy, being of which we are unaware. This differs from what you believe mostly in that although I don't know the purpose, I do not believe the universe just happened, by accident or sheer chance.
Humans have flawed perceptions. As I've said before, we have mathematical proof that time is the fourth dimension, yet we can't perceive it as that; we can only experience time at one fixed point and move forward along it at a fixed rate. To me, this proves that there is much more to the picture than we are seeing. If I had to guess whether there was a "purpose" behind human/Earth's/the physical universe's existence or not, then I would assume there was some plan or intention behind it. It seems impossible that everything could just spring out of the void of space and turn into what we see today by no action of a higher power, consciousness, energy.  If it did come from a higher source, why would all this energy be expended on creating what now exists without some reason according to that creator?
So as you can see, I do more or less agree that the universe exists for no reason or meaning that a human could conceive of, but I firmly believe there is a purpose and something that created everything we perceive with that intention. Therefore, I believe there is a reason for human beings, for plants and animals, for water and stars and meteors. I believe each part is valuable and contributes to a fixed system that was created with the intention of a higher consciousness.

Now, logic aside (since human logic isn't worth much anyway), I personally believe that everything that we can perceive and all that we cannot are unified parts of this higher consciousness' energy. I can't defend this claim with logic or data, but I think when you realize how connected everything is on a molecular level (exchange of electrons, for example) and when you understand how interdependent humans (and everything in the universe really) are, such connections might persuade you to believe everything is a part of a larger whole and all is one.